


Eiffel

by briannarose



Category: Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: Choking, F/M, Fingering, Fluff, NSFW, Other, Rough Sex, Softness, i say rewritten but its the ending really, the eiffel scene but rewritten, thigh riding
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-07
Updated: 2020-01-14
Packaged: 2021-02-27 09:54:33
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 8,870
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22165198
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/briannarose/pseuds/briannarose
Summary: The eiffel tower scene but with an alternate ending. Take this as canon if you want, Chibnall doesn't deserve rights after that mess. (Spyfall was great tho don't get me wrong, but That scene? no ma'am!)Here for just a new ending? Feel free to skip to the end.This is a ten-minute read <3Chapters 1 & 2 are not explicit, chapter 3 is straight up porn. Enjoy babes <3
Relationships: Thirteenth Doctor/The Master (Dhawan)
Comments: 30
Kudos: 410





	1. Chapter 1

Contact. Contact.

“Old school,” the master said, not aloud, but placed in the Doctor’s mind. There’s a tension that ripples through the Doctor when he speaks, she could almost feel his heart beating quicker - despite the distance between them as he sat in his bunker. 

“You’re not the only one who can do classic,” she said, aloud. It took everything in her to speak calmly, his voice alone made her feel sick. The look on her face held so much anger, tucking it away the best she could and just barely holding it together.

The master felt as if he’d won, sitting back in his chair and deeply inhaling the cool air.

“So how are you holding up?” he asked confidently, rhetorically almost, “without a Tardis, or your friends... or hope?” 

She could hear the smugness in his voice and it boiled her blood, she struggled to get out the words. Grimacing to herself, in a moment of defeat and willing this to be over, she offered what she knew he wouldn’t pass up.

“Alright,” she began, voice a little shaky and tone seemingly in surrender, “you’ve come all this way, you’ve got me cornered… I’ll meet you. No troops, no soldiers. Just us.”

He contemplated for a mere second, but it’s what he had chased her throughout time for. A never-ending chase it seemed, throughout regenerations. And here they were, yet again. Something about The Doctor willingly giving herself up to him so easily fuelled his ego and this time he was determined not to let her off easily as she’d foiled his plans and ran so often.

“Where?” he asked, his voice was calm, soft even. Perhaps you could go far as to say endearing, in the most terrifying way.

A small smile tugged at her lips, “Where do you think?” 

*****

The sound of air raid sirens was haunting, not much really instilled fear into the Doctor but that reminder of human atrocity and mass trauma sent chills down her spine. She stood, at the bottom of the Eiffel Tower, and took a deep breath; preparing herself for the encounter she was about to have. Meeting your greatest enemy at an extreme height wasn’t exactly going to provoke one to feel security.

She reached the top, saw him standing there ever so undauntedly and it made her scoff to herself as she approached, cold air from such a height hitting her right away.

“Its cold up ‘ere!” she commented breathlessly. Small talk, Doctor, really? Straightening her posture, she walked to stand beside him, overlooking the railing. She really tried to seem as nonchalant as she could, but her mind and hearts were racing, and she knew he knew that.

“It’s worse than Jodrell bank,” she jested, mentally kicking herself again for keeping up the attempt at small talk. It got a smirk out of him, which he quickly concealed. 

She looked down over the railing and exhaled deeply as she looked at Paris below. It was such a view, and a shame it was wasted on a moment like this where all she had chance to think about was staying on guard in case he tried anything. The Master had always been quick to anger and spontaneous, it was terrifying even for the Doctor/

“Did I ever apologise for that?” the Master inquired, the first time up here he actually had looked at here for more than a second. 

She studied his face for a moment, saw the pride he held and said with a sigh of disapproval, “no..”

“Good.” He retorted, careless. Still, barely looking at her and she hated it, she hated him. And yet, something in her was yearning for his approval, for him to change. There was no one alive that she cared about more than him, and she despised that part of herself.

“How’s the shoulder?” she asked, slowly pacing away from where he stood. She hated weapons of any kind, but there was a sick satisfaction in her that wanted him to hurt, wanted him to feel the kinds of pain he had inflicted on her throughout their years of fighting.

That satisfaction soon dissipated, however, when he turned to finally face her, a grin spreading across his face. There was so much he saw in her that he saw in himself, she would never admit it but seeing those little moments of spite and hatred pleased him. 

“Painful,” he spat, leaning against the railing as he watched her intently. He liked this new face, new body. She was definitely pleasing to look at, that was for certain. 

She looked him up and down, a look of sheer disapproval.

“I don’t like what you’re wearing,” she asserted, her bubbling anger slowly rising to the surface, “or the company you keep. How’ve you managed that? You’re not exactly their Aryan archetype.”

The master rolled his eyes and kissed his teeth as he spoke, her act of being this moral high ground when all of it was out of guilt pissed him off beyond words. 

“Tiny, tetonic perception filter…” he said proudly. Of course, his disguise as a Nazi was only to get to the Doctor, not because he cared or wanted to be a part of human affairs. 

As he spoke he came away from the rail, moving along with such pride. This time it was the Doctor who rolled her eyes, her hands on her hips as he continued.

“Learned it at school. It lets people see what they want to see.” There was almost a sadness in his voice, he knew he didn’t belong and feeling so insecure when he everything he did was to prove a point to the Doctor, to get their attention, it hurt. The Doctor saw that, and swiftly, she changed the subject.

“Suppose it was you who hijacked the MI6 car?”

“That was fun,” he seethed, bubbling with anger already and in a twisted way she enjoyed getting in his head, seeing just how important she truly was to this man, who’s existence was built entirely around her. It was fucked up, but she enjoyed that.

“And assassinated C?” she continued, brows furrowed and eyes glazed over, her tone and expression dripped with disgust and disappointment in the person who stood before her. An old friend whom she had loved, unrecognisable now in what he’d become.

“Mandraffian laser rifle. One shot,” he answered smugly, lip between his teeth as he grinned.

Slowly, with such coolness, he walked over to her, just inches from her face.

“I’ve still got an eye for it,” he said, gaze never wavering from her green eyes; it made her nervous and he loved it. For a moment they stood, looking into one another, before he was back leaning on the railing overlooking the view below. 

“Why were the Kasaavin assassinating spies?” she asked next, demanding answers. She never turned away, watching him with such anger and hurt, all that moved was her blonde locks as the wind blew. 

“Earth’s intelligence services started to realise their presence.”

“So, what, you brought the Kasaavin to Earth?” she didn’t quite understand.

He paused and turned his head to look at her, study her face.

“They were already here,” he chuckled, “I just persuaded them we had interests in common. The Kasaavin are embedded across the whole of this universe. Spies, from another dimension…”  
“As I said to Mr Barton,” he said, slight pause as he racked his brain reliving the moment he was recalling to her, hands gesturing as he concentrated, “think of them as Russia… but bigger. Sleeper agents everywhere, waiting to be activated, amassing information in case they need to attack. And, I mean. You know me. I can’t help myself.”

That same terrifying grin took hold of him and it made the Doctor feel sick to her core every time.  
“And I mean, you know me. I can’t help myself. I have to stick my oar in,” he beamed, turning his back as his smile fell as quickly as it had appeared. He walked slowly away from her, bitterness in his expression. 

“What have you done?” the Doctor asked angrily, her hands shaking as she used everything in her not to lash out, not to just hit him. It would get her nowhere, she knew that, she just ached for it.

He faced her again, eyeline scanning her face, “suggested a better plan.”

Confused, angry, hurt, every negative emotion you could think of was coursing through her as she stared at him, trying to unpack this. It was very hard to do, when your mind was so clouded. 

Her sonic screwdriver rang like it was a phone, and she held it behind her back. 

“Oh!” she exclaimed, in false surprise, “must change the ringtone. Sent it to voicemail. Probably just asking if I’ve had an accident in the last five years. They hate it when you give them a list though, don’t they?”

She had to keep talking, to mask the familiar sound of her sonic screwdriver as it buzzed, and of course her nervousness always led her to go for cheap dad humour.

The master couldn’t have cared less, she had come here for information and so had he; and he was far less patient than she was. 

“Why didn’t you die when the Kasaavin attacked you?” he asked bitterly, unable to mask the confusion he felt and it was oh so satisfying for the Doctor. She’d laugh, but at a height this great it might not be too clever pissing him off just for the fun of it.

“Me and Yaz, both time travellers, fizzing with artron energy.. And! My DNA not matching the rest of humanity. I think we confused them. And I don’t think they’re as stable in this dimension as they’d like to be. What deal have you made with them?”

His smile when she asked that wasn’t so twisted as it was before, this was endearing and proud, it was like when a child comes home from school and shows their mother a picture they’ve drawn. It was pride, delusional pride.

“I showed them and Barton what was possible. They helped me lay a trap for you and I raied their ambitions.”

He looked out into the distance again, inhaling deeply, “Of course, ultimately…” he turned to her, brows furrowed, “the Kasaavin are just the mechanism. They.. They don’t have my vision. You know?” 

“And what vision is that?” she asked mockingly, shaking her head. 

“Maximum carnage.”

“I don’t understand…”

He rolled his eyes, visibly irritated, “no, no, I know you don’t.” He spoke patronisingly, dismissively, “but you will.”

There was a sparkle in his eyes as he laughed to himself, he was so far gone in his ways and the Doctor in her last form had felt so close to redeeming her oldest friend. So close, only to have lost her grip and watched him fall. And now here they were, guilt was consuming her. 

If only I had done more.

“And of course, the best thing is… everyone loses except me. Barton and those creatures do the dirty work, and when they’re done I get rid of them having destroyed your precious human race in the process. Win-win-win.”

Her anger erupted, she couldn’t keep it inside anymore. The Doctor was patient, but right here right now, if it was in her nature she would have killed him. 

“When does all this stop for you?” she demanded angrily, her voice low and teeth gritted as she slowly raised her voice, “The games? The betrayals? The Killing?”

He frowned. “Why would it stop?”

They stood close, her eyes staring into his with the worst, most painful combination of hatred and love for the person in front of her. 

She couldn’t kill him, she never could. But she could never change him, and she knew that. And yet, giving up wasn’t an option. It hurt beyond words.

“I mean.. How else would I get your attention?” he asked, his voice low and callous, eyeline meeting her lips for a moment which made her heart race. He leaned in just ever so closely, with a look of concentration and almost, just almost, she could feel herself giving in to him. 

He snapped himself out of it, desire to cause emotional pain creeping back up on him. 

“Doctor. When did you last go home?”

Her stomach twisted. She swallowed hard, analysing his face, this had to be a trap of some kind. Don’t let your guard down, never. He is deceitful. 

“What do you mean?” she couldn’t dismiss him, she had to know. 

“I took a trip home,” he turned away, “to Gallifrey. Hiding in its little bubble universe. Not sure how to describe what I found. Pulverised? Burned? Nuked? All of the above.”

They looked at each other for a moment, it seemed they saw eye to eye, felt the same emotion. A rarity.

“Someone destroyed it… Our home… razed to the ground. Everyone killed. Everything burned.” he said, looking her in the eye, his face was strewn with what looked like terror. If this was a lie, he was a great liar. But she already knew that. It made it worse, this uncertainty.

Finding the words to say as she choked back tears, and the urge to scream, was so excruciatingly difficult. The distrust she felt for him added another, complicated, layer to everything and it was so frustrating.

“You’re lying,” she said in disbelief, teary eyed and defeated. All those efforts to save her people after in her reality she’d killed them all to stop the war, all that plastering over the guilt that consumed her – for potentially nothing. It felt so real, and her hearts were breaking.

“You should really take a look,” he said before his whole demeanour changed faster than the snap of a finger, “oh, wait, you won’t be able to. I just thought I’d let you know before I…”

He paused and turned to lean over the railing and observe what was happening, as the sound of male voices could be heard in the coming distance, getting ever louder as they bounded up the stairs. 

“Can you hear voices?” The Doctor asked with a small smile of triumph.

Nostrils flared and fists clenched, the Master turned away to run through the door behind them.

“Why are there troops coming up the stairs?” he growled, panic setting in.

The Doctor grinned, “Oh! That’s me.. and one of Blighty’s bravest radio operators. Very good at sending messages, particularly fake ones designed to be intercepted.”

The master froze, his anger fizzing inside of him as he clenched onto the door frame so hard it was painful.

“Now finish what you were saying!” she yelled at him, her own fists clenched. Anger was unusual for her, and it wasn’t so familiar in this new body, she had tried to always stay level headed. Between what he had said about Gallifrey and his plans to destroy humanity, the anger and hatred she felt was reeling out of control. 

But nothing matched the Master’s anger, never.

“What have you done?!” He yelled, at the top of his voice, red in the cheeks with infuriation. 

He charged toward her, grabbing her by the throat. He didn’t care how petite she was, she was the same Doctor and his hatred for her was all the same. His grip tight, he breathed raggedly down her neck as she squirmed in his grip.  
“Sent a message to the Brits,” she explained breathlessly, “telling them... how valuable you’ve been… as a double agent... Sending Nazi information to the British.”

She was grinning and it made his blood boil, grip tightening on her neck as he seethed. He let go when the voices got closer. She grinned as she strolled towards him, that same pride he’d been exuberating just minutes before was now dripping from her. 

She took out her sonic, and held it towards his face, arm shaking with how pissed off she was in this moment. She breathed slowly, trying to think rationally. Seeing that man, once her best friend and on and off her crush and her lover, covering his face with gloved hands felt like a punch to the stomach.

She really was contemplating doing that to him. She exhaled shakily and dropped her sonic, tears in her eyes. The soldiers were in view now, hurtling toward the door. 

“Doctor don’t leave me here,” the Master said, looking deeply into her eyes, pleading with her. He knew the person she was, despite all anger, she could be dying at his hands and she would still have all the compassion and love in the world. It's who she was. And he thought it to be pitiful.

She scrunched her face up in anger and grabbed the sonic from the floor, getting into the lift. She couldn’t move, she couldn’t press a button. Her hearts were stopping her, she just couldn't find it in herself to leave him here. 

She found her legs moving from beneath her like it was instinct, she couldn't leave without him, not here.

"I'm sorry," she said, not entirely sure who to. She grabbed his arm and pulled him toward the lift as the soldiers ran toward them with raised guns, in a frantic attempt to escape from the Nazis that had come for him. It was her doing, but now that she was in the moment it wasnt in her hearts to allow this. And she hated that she possessed such mercy sometimes, especially when the man she was saving thought it was so pathetic. 

But she couldn't live without him.

Shots were fired as they made a run for it, and the two of them fell into the lift onto the ground, the Master grabbing the sonic out of her hand and using it to the lift whizzing down the shaft toward the ground floor. 

"Oh you're too kind, its disgusting, Doctor," he laughed, "I could have saved my damn self. I don't need you to play fucking hero."

His breathing was becoming increasingly heavy, hands clutching his stomach as he fell back, mumbling in pain, “fuck… I think…” he gasped for air, cutting himself off. With shaky hands he peeled the gloves off his hands and pressed his bare palm against the growing patch of blood, seeping through his clothes and painting his hands red.

The Doctors eyes widened, and she shuffled over to where he lay on the lift floor, in what was becoming a pool of his own blood. 

"I'm sorry, I'm so sorry, this is my fault," she said frantically, and it made him laugh breathlessly, rolling his eyes. 

She tore open the buttons of his shirt, examining what were two bullet wounds. His chest heaved and she watched with teary eyes. A regeneration, if he could at all, was too risky here and she had only just met him, this him. Letting him go so soon wasn’t on the cards. This could have been his last, she didn’t know. And it wasn’t worth ever losing him.

“Shh, shh, stay with me, look at me, hey?” she told him, and he complied, dizzy and trying to focus on her face. She gently lifted his torso, laid his dying body across her lap as a tear fell and landed on his cheek.

He smiled fondly, “I’ve always loved this, Doctor… The chase,” he struggled to keep going, to form his sentences, when he was in such pain. “I won’t regenerate, Doctor. Its humiliating, keeping this up. You constantly one over me. So... watch me die… let me have that, Doctor. Your hearts, breaking. Let me have that.”

“I won’t let you go, you know that, Master. I never would,” she said softly, her hands beginning to glow as she mustered up the energy from deep within her.

“Oh I do love it when you say my name,” he chuckled, which abruptly stopped when he felt himself gasping for air.

He was engulfed by regeneration energy that flowed from her, healing his wounds. He growled angrily in protest of her defiance as she did that, but he didn’t stop her. He didn’t move, either, from where he laid across her lap. 

"Stay still, just let me... Let me focus..." she mumbled, eyes closed which didn't stop her tears, and she sniffled as raw emotion took hold of her, uncontrollably. The wounds had closed, but her hands and clothes were blood-stained now. Still, it was the least of her worries. 

He looked up at her, a gentleness in his eyes almost. The Doctor rarely saw that, and never from this incarnation of him as yet. But it felt like it transported her, for a moment, back to when they were young, laid like this under the Gallifreyan stars sharing cheap wine and sweet kisses.

She swallowed hard, it took everything in her to not caress his cheek and tell him she'd always be here.

“Why would you save me, Doctor? After all I have done? All I planned to do? The betrayal, the… Why didn’t you let me die?” He asked, brows furrowed. He hated that he was feeling such love for her while he watched her gaze down at him teary eyed, he despised it. 

“Because I… I love you. I always have. And I always will. You could betray me a million times, and still, if you asked for my help I'd be right there. By your side. Every time.” She said, words that had always been hard for her to verbalise, but right here and now it felt so natural, her oldest friend and her oldest enemy. 

He sat up, brushing himself off as he pushed her away and stood up, stumbling slightly and having to stabilise himself by leaning against the wall of the lift.

“Hmm,” he mumbled, forcing himself out of any affection he’d felt for her, watching her with disgust even if he was having to urge such an expression on himself, trying to ignore his hearts fluttering at her very words.

“Well, Doctor,” he breathed heavily, still healing, “had it been you… I would have let you die. Like you deserve. And I'd have enjoyed it, too.”

She sat there, still, drained as she looked at him with great sadness, “I know.”

*****

AYYYY IF ANYONE ACTUALLY READ THAT, THANKYOU! There may possibly be a very Soft part two if you enjoyed it so let me know. Mwah !


	2. Unspeakable things

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> he can never leave her behind, and things get a little soft, but the Doctor panics

_“Well, Doctor,” he breathed heavily, still healing, “had it been you… I would have let you die.”_

_She sat there, still, drained as she looked at him with great sadness, “I know.”_

Her face looked pale, and the Master assumed it was just that his words had affected her. Good, he thought. He realised, however, that wasn’t necessarily the case when she tried to stand and found herself gripping the hand rail behind her.

Regenerations ago she had healed Riversong’s broken wrist with regeneration energy, but that was an injury that wasn’t fatal, not like bullet wounds to the stomach and the chest. It drained her, she felt almost like she had back in Sheffield when she’d regenerated and fallen through a train carriage. Like she was about to fall.

And she did. With a thud she hit the ground and her vision was blurred, felt it wasn’t in time with her eye movements, everything moved much slower and she felt heavy.

“Oh come on,” the Master mumbled under his breath, hair dishevelled and hand clutching his chest, he was fine but it still ached, regeneration energy wasn’t a miracle worker, well, not quite anyway.

He pulled himself away from where he leant and watched her for a second, just lying there. The main cause was usually exhaustion, so she just looked peaceful as she slept, not by choice of course, her body had shut down against her will.

They had long been at the bottom of the lift and the soldiers had caught up, not all of them though. It looked as if they had split up, hadn’t expected them to be in the lift still when they had been forced to take the stairs.

The master fumbled in his pockets, a growl emitting from the back of his throat as he watched the two soldiers, who had once been so loyal to him, force their way into the lift. He raised his arms above his head, in surrender, as he slowly walked to stand in front of where the Doctor was laid, almost like he was a shield.

“You can take me, you don’t touch her,” he said venomously, a troop stepping toward him and examining his face threateningly, staring him down. It didn’t affect him like the troop thought it would, the Master was always a step ahead of them.

The threating gaze the soldier had on him he gave right back, he didn’t falter as he stared at him angrily with those brown eyes that held so much fire and rage. He had watched civilisations burn, he had even been the one to burn them so many times, a human soldier didn’t instil any fear in him. If anything, he had to hold back his smirk.

Just to spite him, the soldier pushed him roughly aside, the other following him into the lift. He stumbled, almost into the wall which was streaked with blood where he’d leaned against it before. He turned slowly and watched as she was slowly hoisted up off the ground, and part of him realising she would be taken as prisoner for saving him if nothing else was pleasing to him.

It would mean she was out of the way, at least for a day or two, and he had chance to continue his plans successfully. Of course, he loved a challenge, but in his eyes he’d have won.

Still, part of him ached; and not just because he’d been physically hurt. He found himself reaching into his pocket, instinctively, he couldn’t stop himself.

“I told you to stay away from her. You’re so lucky she’s not awake, so… so lucky,” he said darkly, voice low. His tone was calm, the paralyzingly terrifying sort of calm that would send chills down anyone’s spine.

The soldier that had gotten in his face scoffed in amusement, “what would a woman do? Being such a petite thing, she is, what would she do?”

“Mmm, see, I’m not talking about her. She certainly isn’t helpless, but she isn’t violent or particularly threatening. I’m talking about me. How she won’t be able to stop me doing this,” the Master grinned.

In his pocket was his tissue compression ray, which with a swift move he used on the first soldier, shrinking him down to the size of a penny. As you can imagine, the other was in such shock that taking him down too was easy, and the Master was able to savour the moment, revel in it. He didn’t shrink him right away, he walked slowly toward him, looking down at the tiny body of the shrunken troop on the ground beside where his enemy laid, sleeping so peacefully despite what was happening

He leant down and picked up the shrunken figure, holding it up for the other to see.

“Tissue compression. Oh, such a classic, and so much fun,” he grinned, talking about his murder tactics like he was a child showing off a new toy, it truly was sick. He adored the way he had almost reduced this solder before him to such fear, shaking his head in twisted delight.

“Your men shot me, here,” he continued, gesturing to his left heart and then his lower abdomen, “and here.

“I wish you could see your face, I really do,” he laughed maniacally, clapping his hands, “yes, I’m alive, and I’m fine. Bit of scarring but nothing that won’t go away while I heal. So you can go ahead and shoot me, but its redundant. Or, you could run… You could escape while I allow you to. Thank me for my mercy.”

His tone had been so calm and collected until the soldier just stared at him, wide eyed and frozen to the spot. The Master narrowed his eyes, squeezing the shrunken body between his fingers like it was a bug, crushing the shrunken man effortlessly which made the Nazi before him flinch.

“I said thank me!” he yelled throatily, body shaking as he did so.

“Thankyou,” the soldier stammered out as he turned on his heel to run.

A laugh, and then a gunshot. The troop fell, bleeding heavily from the back of his thigh.

“I’m just playing with you,” the Master laughed, heavy boot-clad foot pressing into the troop’s back as he leaned down, barrel of the gun against the back of his neck.

“I gave you an order, to leave that woman alone, and you defied me. And yet, you really thought I would have mercy, you fucking pig. I know what you men do to women like her when they are in your control, and if you truly think I would ever let you live, knowing what I do…” he shot him in the back of the neck, “then you’re fucking stupid.”

Blood splatted onto his clothes and skin, not that it particularly mattered though, not when he was already soaked in his own blood.

He watched with a grin as the man twitched, dying before him, choking on his own blood. Revenge, so sweet. His grin slowly turned bitter as he looked down at the body, his anger was still there, it always was. He spat at the blood-soaked Nazi, and turned back to where the Doctor laid, sleeping through all of it. Sleeping was the wrong word though, probably, unconscious was better, but she looked so beautiful and so angelic.

“What am I doing, huh?” the Master mumbled to himself as he leaned down, and gently lifted her into his arms to carry her to somewhere safe – his Tardis. He tried hard to justify it in his mind, thinking why should I let her be taken by a Nazi when I could get her back to health and take the satisfaction of killing her myself?

He was exhausted, drained, but made the journey on foot back to his Tardis, obnoxiously shaped still like the hut in Australia. He had felt confident enough to leave it, he always underestimated the Doctor and treat them in all their forms as if they were stupid.

Carefully, he took her through to another room, he’d hidden the entrances when she last came here, couldn’t give away the whole ‘bigger on the inside’ thing while posing as an ex MI6 agent by the name of ‘Oh’. It was his bedroom, where he laid her down on his double bed to rest comfortably, but he lied to himself once more and pretended it was just so she was out of his way.

But he knew he was fooling himself, deep down he cared for the Doctor with his entire being and that’s why his entire existence and value was centred around getting her attention. Admitting that to even himself was ego-destroying.

He changed into clean clothes, his normal attire. Blue shirt, and a matching navy and red plaid waistcoat and trousers, adorned with chains and a pocket watch. He sighed, looking himself over in the mirror and getting a glimpse of the adorable blonde that laid with such tranquillity in his bed. He turned to face her, his hearts fluttering for a moment before he closed his eyes, inhaling deeply.

Fists clenched, trying to clear his mind, he left the room and the door was slammed behind him. He stayed in the control room from then on, just ridding his mind of her while he got on with other things, inputting files into the system and anything else to progress his plans, take advantage of the fact she was unable to stop him right now.

An hour or so passed, and he was so focused he didn’t hear a door open or footsteps, just snapped back to reality when a soft raspy voice came from behind him.

“You killed them, didn’t you, the troops? My sonic recorded it all…”

He frowned to himself, eyes on his work and not turning to face her. She’d caught him off guard and didn’t want to be seen looking so displeased.

“I had to” he simply replied, seemingly nonchalant.

“In the lift, you told me… You said… You would have let me die, if it had been me. But you didn’t let them take me,” she said, genuine curiosity in her voice but he didn’t read it as such.

“Must you sound so triumphant, Doctor? After all this time… Where would the fun be in letting you be taken by them? When I could kill you myself.”

“So kill me. I’m here, I won’t fight. I don’t want to play your games, so I’m surrendering. Kill me.”

He paused, eyes narrowed and finger tapping his lips in sync with his foot tapping the Tardis floor.

“I’m busy.” He finally replied, and she smiled fondly, she knew what he meant to say, she knew what his hearts were saying.

As she walked closer, he stood up from his chair, turning on his heel to face her and he was taken aback for a minute. Her blonde hair was dishevelled and messy where she’d moved around as she rested, and she’d gotten out of the bloodied clothes and ‘borrowed’ a burgundy sweater from his closet that was much too big for her.

Looking down at herself as she noticed his unmoving gaze she nodded, flushed, “oh, yes, sorry. Blood all over me, and I was wearing a white shirt! So annoying. Uh, hope you don’t mind. I’ll give it back.”

The Master couldn’t help the chuckle that fell from his lips, and he perched himself against the console.

“It’s nice in ‘ere,” the Doctor commented, a little flustered and awkward, “what you doing anyway? Let me see,” she approached the console, nosily looking around her like a kid in a sweetshop, mesmerised. She only ever saw her own Tardis, so this was nice.

“I don’t think so, love,” the Master said, reaching out to grab her wrist and pull her toward him, away from the console. He stood, towering over her frame. She whined, but complied, partly just curious on what he was going to do.

She looked up at him, trying to figure him out, “I just don’t understand why you didn’t let them take me and run.”

“Shut up, Doctor,” he groaned, rolling his eyes, “the way I feel about you, it doesn’t matter. The way just seeing you and your little friends come to save the day infuriates me, but if you truly think I would have let them take you, you’re clueless. You know what they would have done to you? Do you, huh? I am many, many things, Doctor. But the things they do to women,” he was seething, just thinking about them.

“I can protect myself, you don’t need to worry about me,” she argued, “you think I’m so fragile, don’t you?”

He glared down at her, grip on her wrist tightening, “I wish you were, maybe the odds would be more in my favour that way. I think you’re the strongest you’ve ever been. And the prettiest, god, its so annoying… I never know if I want to kill you or want to…”

“Want to what?” she asked, brow raised as she looked up at him, eyes in line with his own and never wavering. He swallowed, hard.

She watched his eyes leave hers every now and again, looking at her lips. He had a habit of that, and it made her nervous. He liked that, though.

“Unspeakable things, Doctor,” he said lowly, and it made her inhale sharply. That, or it was the way his hand came to hold her hip, guiding her closer. She didn’t know why she was compliant, why she was enjoying this, not when the very sight of him was usually enough to make her feel sick to her core.

He let go of her wrist, large hand pressing itself against her cheek, holding her face. He tucked her blonde hair behind her ear before his hand settled and he was quick to lean down, his lips meeting hers.

It wasn’t particularly soft or sweet, but that wasn’t him. She reciprocated for a while, melting into his hands and body that was pressed up against hers, his tongue finding its way into her mouth against her own.

Eventually, she pulled away, cheeks pink and her lips pinker. She was flustered and not fully able to process what had just happened. Either way, she enjoyed it, maybe a little too much. But she was nervous, her hearts were racing and what scared her so much more than dying at his hands was the idea she might still be in love. They were just in their teenage years on Gallifrey when they thought they were soulmates, but the Master was the one person that was hardest to get over. And given the circumstances, she couldn’t give in to him, as much as she wanted to right now.

“I really should get back to my friends.”

He perched against the console again, fists and jaw clenched, hearts sinking, “mmm… of course. I’ll drop you off.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> im having a lot of fun with their dynamic and though it was originally intended as a one-shot sort of thing, let me know if you want more. the next chapter will be nsfw so if you're wanting that, leave me a comment! 
> 
> Also, follow me on twitter @timelesbians, i want more mutuals <3


	3. Angel

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> nsfw. the master and the doctor get a little naughty. this is very explicit, so be warned. enjoy, you thirteenmaster loving horny ass hoes! <3 mwah. love you, thanks for reading thus far!

_“I really should get back to my friends.”_

_He perched against the console again, fists and jaw clenched, hearts sinking, “mmm… of course. I’ll drop you off.”_

She nodded, swallowing as she felt a lump in her throat. It wasn’t sadness, more like disgust. Only beginning to process what had happened now, it was overwhelming.

The man before her leaning against his console could cause so much destruction and it made him happy, and here she was kissing him, and it set her world on fire. He could kiss her like she was the most important thing to have ever existed and betray her the next, and yet, she could never shake off her affections for the Master.

“I’m talking to you,” a stern voice said, awakening her from her thoughts. It had felt for a moment like her head was under water, everything around her muffled and it was as if the world was standing still.

The Master was looking at her in annoyance, top lip curled up ever so slightly as he tapped his foot impatiently.

“Oh, sorry,” she blushed, innocently twisting at the insides of the sleeves of the Master’s sweater (which was much too big for her), “didn’t hear you, zoned out. Still tired I think. What were you saying?”

“I was saying you should probably get out of my clothes, before you go,” he said nonchalantly, crossing his arms.

She chuckled, tucking her short blonde bed-head mess of hair behind her ear, looking down at what she was wearing again. She glanced back up at him, just watching for a second silently at how his eyes feasted upon her body. The sweater covered her mostly, but her thighs were on show and defined collarbones with how the neckline of the sweater fell over one shoulder.

So angelic, such effortless beauty. And he could only think about destroying her, covering her pretty collarbones in love-bites that ran up to her neck, gripping her thighs so hard they bruised.

“Yeah. Did you wash mine?” she asked, tugging at the hem of the sweater awkwardly, she could see him looking, “I can go get dressed now while you land this thing in the right time and place. Lot of explaining to do for my friends.”

He grinned, looking at her with narrowed, dark eyes.

“Doctor,” he licked his lips, “I never said anything about you getting dressed. I told you to get out of _my_ _clothes_ , was I not clear, angel? You can wash them yourself.”

Neither of them moved, she wasn’t sure _what_ to do or what to say, really, and it was humiliating letting him have one over her, he was loving this. Her blush grew pinker, continuing to fiddle with the long sleeves of the jumper.

All she did know was that when he called her angel her stomach felt like it inverted, so many new feelings in this body she didn’t know how to respond to. And she wasn’t great at hiding these things, especially when they had known each other their whole lives – the Master saw through her.

“You know what’s funny, Doctor?” he began lowly, padding his way over to her, “usually, I can’t get you to shut your damn mouth, challenging me and thinking you’re such a hero. And yet… look what I’ve reduced you to… Ah, come on, look me in the eye, love.”

He was surprisingly gentle as he used two fingers to lift her chin, make her look up at him. She could have sworn she was going to collapse, or melt, or both. She swallowed, hard.

The Tardis was almost silent, a whirring here and there coming from the console, but with them being stood so close now, the sounds of their breathing and hearts racing sounded so loud, she couldn’t tune it out.

The Master’s fingers trailed slowly down the side of her neck, his eyes filled with such admiration and yet such darkness. He grabbed a fistful of her hair when his hand then ran through it, eliciting a tiny gasp as he tugged her head back and left chase kissed against her throat.

“Do you want to go home, my dear?” he asked, lips brushing against her soft skin, his other hand on her lower back, riding up the back of the sweater.

“N-no,”

“No what, angel? Address me properly.”

She paused, he pulled her hair harder which made her whimper softly.

“No, Master.”

From the back of his throat he growled, she’d given in so easily, but this happened every now and again, in each their many forms; a building of tension that eventually had to explode.

And with that, she pushed out of his grip, and took control in kissing him. She was soft, sweet, she kissed him slow and he obliged, his large hands slipping underneath the burgundy wool and resting on her petite waist.

Her tongue met his once again, and they kissed one another as if they needed it like air. It was angry and hot, passionate and loving, sad and confusing. He slowly pushed her legs apart with his thigh, catching her by the waist when it had her off guard and stumbling a little. He knew what he was doing, such a way that her clothed sex rubbed against his thigh, sending a chill down her spine. It made her ache for him even more.

“Sit down, Koschei,” she said, her voice was demanding, and he liked it. He had always loved their dynamic, how the Doctor always thought they were in control but that was never the way it ended in a situation like this. Though, he accepted her request, sitting down on the top stair, console behind him.

Her eyes were lustful, and she watched as he sat down, hearts skipping when he bit his lip, his thighs parted and eyes glassy, bulge in his trousers prominent.

“Get your ass over here,” he growled, his voice usually infuriated her and in other encounter would make her sick, but right now it made her legs feel weak. Slowly, she obeyed, shakily approaching and positioning herself to straddle his thigh.

She leaned in, just pausing close enough that their lips brushed, teasing him for a moment. Her hand was on his thigh, for support, but placed dangerously close to the hard-on in his trousers.

He knew how to tease her right back, ever so slightly bouncing his thigh which made her head drop to look down, a small squeak falling out that made her blush.

“Oh I just adore making you blush, my dear,” he grinned, lifting her head when he wrapped his broad hand around her throat, “make you go all red in the face while you get yourself off on my thigh, so cute, so desperate.”

“I am not desperate, if I left you right now like this you’d be a mess, you’d be in pieces. You’d be thinking of me all night,” the Doctor said confidently, hand over his as he held her by the throat. His grip was hard enough to make her struggle for air, but not hard enough yet to cut it off.

“Mmm, so leave,” he said, other hand grabbing a handful of her behind, a smirk adorning his face.

She huffed, admitting defeat which made him chuckle. She couldn’t leave, she did want him.

“That’s what I thought, honey, now go on, use my thigh like the good girl I know you are,” he said in her ear, grip on her throat tightening. Every time her respiratory bypass was about to kick in, he stopped – if she wasn’t breathless and fighting for air what was the point?

It didn’t take any more convincing than that, for her to hold onto the sides of his thigh and rock her hips, rhythm a little ragged until she got the hang of it. He revelled in her soft moans, her tugging at his shirt with shaky hands. The deep line between her brows when she furrowed them in concentration, her parted lips and gasps for air.

With a swift move he stood, helping her stand with him, he couldn’t take much more. Just watching her had gotten him so hard it was bordering on pain. The burgundy sweater was practically torn off her, all happening so fast, and the next thing she knew he was kneading her small breasts, kissing and nipping at her neck.

Not-so-carefully he drove her backwards until they hit a wall, the Doctor hissing in pain when her back caught the edge of a kitchen cabinet, an unfinished glass of whisky smashing onto the floor which made her wince.

He cursed under his breath but dismissed it, too caught up in her to care. He grabbed her wrists, easy for him having much larger hands than she did, pinning them to the wall above her head. It was a little awkwardly, but he managed to undress himself with one hand mostly.

“Looks like I have got you, Doctor,”

“I could say the same,” she lifted her thigh, pressed against his hard cock.

He growled, “I’m not the one pinned to a wall, angel.”

“Fair play,” a typical thing for her to say, and so seemingly nonchalantly too.

He let go, only so he could turn her around and push his hips forward, rubbing against her almost soaked underwear. She whined, pushing back against him which made him chuckle. She could seem to unbothered with her words, but it never translated to her body language.

She gasped when after a short pause he did that again, but he’d removed his boxers, one less layer between them. She felt his shape, his warmth, and though new she craved it. She didn’t wait for him to tear them off her, she pushed her underwear down her thighs, just enough.

He licked his lips, groaning to himself as he took in the sight, one he hoped he’d get to see often. Her hands on the wall supporting herself, leant into it so she could ever so slightly bend, beg for him without words. She didn’t have to say anything, her wet panties around her thighs spoke volumes.

He took it slow, inching into her, she was tight and inexperienced and new to this body. Despite that, she almost mewled, breath hitching in her throat as he stretched her out for the first time.

“Shit,” she exhaled shakily, nails leaving scratch marks on the wall.

With perfect rhythm he rocked his hips back and forth, breathily groaning unashamedly in her ear as his toned arm came to wrap itself around her neck, other hand holding onto her hip for some leverage.

“You feel so good, love,” he snarled, “say my name, fucking say it.”

“No,” she gasped, lip between her teeth.

“If you want to come you’re gonna say it, baby,” he threatened, teasingly trailing his tongue along her earlobe.

Her legs felt like they could give way, but he held her up, hand moving from her hip to her lower abdomen, pushing against it which, along with him starting to move his hips faster, made her dizzy.

“Say. My. Name.”

She was almost choking on air, moan after moan meaning she struggled to even think of words to say. He loved it though, fucking her brains out.

“Make me,” she eventually retorted, just to make him mad. Something in her wanted that, to see him angry and just take control of her body, take out his hatred.

He pulled out, turning her around to face him, to look into his eyes and see if she could keep it up. His hand explored between her thigh, thumb brushing against her clit which made her quiver. That was new, other than with her own hands she’d not been touched there like that, and God, she never wanted to be a man again. His fingers were inside her before her clouded mind had even caught up, curled perfectly and moving so fast she saw stars.

He drew moan after moan from her, his lips and tongue brushing against hers, a hand in her tangled blonde hair as he pumped his fingers.

Reduced to a squirming, wailing mess, pressed against the wall of her enemy’s Tardis, he had her just where he wanted, he could see it in her face. Her slick walls contracted around his fingers and to her disappointment, they were gone before she got that high that she needed, leaving her aching.

He placed his hands on the wall, either side of her head, body against hers. His hard length was pressing against her stomach, and it made her quiver with want.

“Now, are you going to say my name? Ask nicely and maybe you can have what you want.”

Dishevelled and desperate, she looked at him with half lidded eyes.

“Please, Master.”

“Please what?”

“Fuck me, Master. Please, please…” she begged, breathless, hand stroking at his length that was still slick with her wetness. He needed no more convincing, he got what he wanted.

He picked her up, effortlessly, her frame being so much smaller than his gave him so much control and he loved it. She was strong, enough so that if she wanted to fight him she surely could and he wouldn’t stand a chance, but when she was surrendered to him like this it was easy.

His Tardis was homely, table and chairs set up and bookcases, a couch too, it wasn’t the most fitting for a murderous alien per say, but he liked it.

He dropped her on the couch, clambering on top of her, not the most gracefully but holding himself back just to assert his dominance was challenging when his cock was throbbing just looking at her pretty face.

Lining himself up, he watched her eyes flutter closed as his hips met hers, much less gentle this time. It felt like the couch, or her own body, could snap in half if he wasn’t careful.

“Always fighting me, and yet…” he chuckled, jaw clenched and neck veins protruding under his skin, “you’ve always ended up here, underneath me.”

She smiled, biting her lip as she choked out moans while he worked his magic between her legs – she was more than happy to just lie there and take it, it was heaven.

His thumb pressed against her clit, pleasure surging through her as that familiar tension built and she craved it, craved not to have it ripped away from her at the last second. And as he rubbed that cluster of nerves, she got just that, an Earth-shattering orgasm that tore through her, neck and back arching as she cried out.

Seeing like that, at his hands, at his mercy, sent warmth through his stomach, straight to his length, and with heavy breaths and throaty groans he was spilling inside of her, fingers digging into her sides so hard it formed bruises.

Heavy breathing and the sound of him padding across the floor to grab his boxers was all to be heard while they came down, out of their lustful daze and processing what they’d done.

“I should… go…” she was breathless, sitting up, “wash my clothes and head off soon.”

He chuckled fondly, running a hand through his tousled hair, it was a mess and it made her smile. He disappeared through the door by the kitchen for a second, before reappearing with her clothes, cleaned and folded perfectly.

“But, you said?” she tilted her head, confused, “you told me to wash them myself, you hadn’t done it.”

“I was horny, I lied,” he said and she grinned as he threw them at her, “you nutter.”

“Shut up, asshole,” she retorted tenderly.


End file.
